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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736358">shitebag if ye dinnae</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear'>raedear</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Edging, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marathon Sex, Nile Freeman &amp; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Friendship, Overstimulation, Switching, Team Dynamics, gratuitous use of pet names, pre and during Booker's exile, silly bets, unspoken but explicit consent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:02:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>Right there in the middle of the page he keeps special for such things, is their tally. </i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>In a mess of notes and adjustments, it simply reads: Nicky -995 / Joe -340 </i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Nicky’s eyes get very wide, and he glances at the rubbish on the floor in front of the bin, the money on the table, and finally back to Joe’s sketchbook. His slow blink is as good as a curse, and Joe’s grin spreads sharp and slow across his face.</i>
  </p>
</blockquote>Nicky loves silly bets. Joe reaps the rewards.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>434</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shitebag if ye dinnae</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘You didn’t even make it a year, <em> habibi,</em>’ says Joe against Nicky’s collarbone as he crouches over him, opening himself up with one hand while holding himself up with the other. Nicky’s fighting for control of his breath already. His hands are exactly where they’re supposed to be, flat on the bed, palms up and waiting, but his entire body is rigid with tension. Joe stretches himself particularly well and has to swallow a moan before he can finish his thought. Nicky swallows hard right along with him, his eyes fixed on the line of Joe’s throat as his adam’s apple bobs. ‘Even for— fuck, even for you, that’s an impressive amount of money to lose in such a short time.’ Eight months, two dozen bets, one thousand in mixed currency lost to all and sundry. Any gains he managed to make were so marginal they were hardly worth recording, but Joe recorded them anyway. When he’s finished with Nicky, they’ll go through them together. </p><p>Nicky scoffs, but there’s no heat in it. All his heat is in his eyes, scalding where they land on Joe’s skin, and waiting in his twitching hands. ‘I would have made it back by the end of the summer,’ he says, his voice already low and strained, unconsciously raising his chin to follow Joe’s mouth as he sits up but neglects to kiss him as he goes. Neither of them mention why he couldn’t make his money back in the usual fashion. </p><p>Joe pulls his fingers from himself with a shuddering groan at the sudden emptiness, and shuffles on his knees further down Nicky’s body. He gives Nicky a wink as he catches him by the root to hold it steady. Nicky bites his lip hard, and his eyelashes flutter with the effort of keeping his eyes open. Joe lowers himself slowly onto Nicky’s achingly-hard cock, and settles with a shallow roll of his hips. </p><p>‘If you come before I say you can, I’ll put a cock ring on you and leave you till morning, understand, my love?’ His voice is as even as he can make it with Nicky pressing firmly against his prostate. Joe is blessed with a husband whose cock is thicker at the head than it is at the base, making the experience of riding him all that much more delicious. Nicky gasps sharply and nods. His hands flex, once, twice, but he keeps them where Joe put them. Joe starts to move, and relishes the sound of Nicky’s muttered prayers as he tries to hold himself together. </p><p>He never would leave Nicky like that, but the edge of the threat makes him twitch; keeps him at Joe’s mercy just that little bit more effectively. As Joe sets a slow but relentless pace, the tendons of Nicky’s neck stand out in stark relief. Joe lowers his head, hips still moving, and embeds his teeth three inches below Nicky’s right ear. Nicky gives a strained whine, his thighs flex between Joe’s with the aborted need to thrust, and Joe sucks a bruise that heals almost as quickly as his lips leave Nicky’s skin. </p><p>—</p><p>‘I am a trained sniper, Nile,’ says Nicky evenly, balling the paper his dinner came wrapped in tightly in his hand. ‘I can easily make the bin from this distance, it’s hardly worth talking about.’ His shit-eating grin is a tiny thing, more a tightness around his eyes than anything else, but Joe could read Nicky’s expression in a pitch-black room, and Nile’s known him long enough now to see it too. She smirks at him, and steals Andy’s rubbish to do the same, her hands quick and sure as she twists and packs the vinegary paper. </p><p>‘If you’re so sure,’ she says, tossing the paper ball lightly from hand to hand. ‘Then why don’t we make it more interesting? Five bucks says I can do it from further away.’ </p><p>Nile learned very quickly that the most effective way to overcome Nicky’s placid nature was to take advantage of his mile-wide competitive streak. Joe barely has time to blink at them before Nicky pulls a five pound note from his wallet and lays it on the table. Nile gives a cheer and follows suit. </p><p>The safehouse isn’t particularly large, but the kitchen was big enough to give them both a corner with roughly the same distance. Andy obligingly kicks the bin a little closer to the centre of the furthest wall. </p><p>‘At the same time?’ Nile winds her arm back comically as she speaks, setting herself up like she was about to pitch a baseball. Joe switches from sketching the angle of Andy’s jaw to capturing the bend of Nile’s elbow; tiny quick studies to keep his wrist loose. Nicky would appreciate it later. </p><p>‘<em>Sì</em>, if you think that will help you,’ Nicky smiles as he speaks, the tilt of his lips brings his accent out that little bit more. Joe can’t help but breathe a laugh as he sketches the span of Nicky’s fingers where they cup his elbow. </p><p>‘Alright you two,’ says Andy through a grin, leaning back in her seat to leave the space between them completely clear. ‘Count of three and we’ll get this over with.’</p><p>Nicky and Nile nod in unison, abruptly serious, both of them drawing their hands back, ready to throw. Joe lays down his sketchbook and sits back, kicking his foot up to rest on his knee, thighs spread wide and arms crossed behind his head. Nicky’s eyes flicker towards him, but only briefly. He smirks at him anyway, confident that Nicky is as aware of his every movement as he is of Nicky’s. </p><p>Andy begins to count down, Nicky and Nile tense, ready to throw. As she reaches one, Joe flexes his thigh and slightly lifts his hips. Just as planned, the inseam of his jeans audibly creaks. Nicky’s eye’s flicker towards him again, and his hand stutters just enough to knock his throw slightly off-course. All of them watch as Nicky’s neatly-balled chippy wrap sails directly into the path of Nile’s, bouncing hers into the bin, and his own to the floor. </p><p>Nile gives a wild cheer, Andy tips her head back in a bellowing laugh, and Nicky gives Joe a look of such stark betrayal that Joe feels a tiny flicker of guilt. It’s very quickly smothered however by the satisfaction of holding up his sketchbook so Nicky can read it. Right there in the middle of the page he keeps special for such things, is their tally. </p><p>In a mess of notes and adjustments, it simply reads: Nicky -995 / Joe -340. </p><p>Nicky’s eyes get very wide, and he glances at the rubbish on the floor in front of the bin, the money on the table, and finally back to Joe’s sketchbook. His slow blink is as good as a curse, and Joe’s grin spreads sharp and slow across his face.</p><p>—</p><p>Of all the demands Joe will ever make of Nicky in bed, keeping silent is not one of them. It’s hard enough on a normal day to drag a noise out of him; times like this, when he’s so on edge he can taste it, and he can’t keep the tiny whimpers and moans behind his teeth? Joe lives for it. </p><p>This isn’t about Nicky at the moment though, not really. Joe has big plans for exactly how he’s going to destroy all of Nicky’s carefully held control. This is just to take the edge off for himself. He settles back on his hips, holding on to Nicky’s knees as he grinds his hips in slow and patient circles, relishing the thick heft of Nicky’s cock inside him. Exactly the way he likes it, but nowhere near enough for Nicky. If anything, it’s more of a tease for him. Joe watches Nicky bite at his lower lip, tears already building in the corner of his eyes, and can’t hold back any longer from roughly fisting his cock as he begins to grind harder into Nicky’s lap. </p><p>Nicky’s thighs clench beneath him, his body tightening up just enough to thrust his cock that little bit harder into Joe, and he comes with a wild buck of his hips, come streaking across Nicky’s flushed chest. Nicky groans low and long, always more affected by the sight of Joe coming than he ever is by his own orgasm. Joe pants for breath, curved over Nicky’s body, head on his collarbone, Nicky still hard and hot inside him.</p><p>‘That’s one, my darling,’ he says as soon as he has breath enough to speak. Nicky gasps sharply, but doesn’t ask how high Joe plans to count.</p><p>—</p><p>‘This time,’ says Nicky with a bright grin. ‘This time I will win, <em> tesoro.</em>’ </p><p>Joe smiles, unable to do anything else in the face of a happy and confident Nicky. ‘Of course, <em> habibi,</em> I have every faith in you.'</p><p>Booker obligingly hands Nicky a marker pen as he passes him on his way to the door. </p><p>‘You’ll never manage, but godspeed in your attempt. I look forward to collecting my winnings after she guts you.’</p><p>Nicky scoffs, and kicks his shoes off at the door. He slips out, quiet as a passing shadow, and Booker looks at Joe with a laugh already playing around his mouth.</p><p>‘Every faith in him?’ Occitan is such a perfect language for sarcasm, Joe can’t help but think as Booker’s shit-eating grin grows wider with every second Nicky is out of their sight. ‘He’ll owe me a hundred, five minutes from now if you’re lucky. Sure you don’t want to put money on it yourself?’ </p><p>Joe grins back at him, entirely unconcerned. ‘It’ll take a lot more than that to get me betting against my Nicky, <em> mon ami, </em> but good effort nonetheless.’ </p><p>Booker sniggers good-naturedly, knocking his shoulder against Joe’s before they both fall silent, their heads cocked towards the door, listening like dogs on the hunt. </p><p>They aren’t left waiting long. Not even two minutes after Nicky left the room, they hear a distant clatter. A minute after that, Nicky slinks back into the room, flushed bright red around his very fetching new moustache and glasses. Booker lets out a howl of laughter loud enough to scare the birds from the trees a mile away, and Joe isn’t far behind him. Nicky buries his face in his hands, his own shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Joe staggers to his feet to embrace him just as Andy steps through the door, her hair sleep-mussed, the marker pen still uncapped in her hand. </p><p>‘Better luck next time, Nicky,’ she says with a dismissive sniff, handing the pen back to an incoherent Booker. </p><p>Nicky groans in Joe’s arms, his face so warm Joe can feel his blush against his neck. Joe kisses his hair and tries to reign in his own laughter. Nicky peeks up at him, and Joe loses his grasp completely at the sight of the careful curl of the twirly moustache Andy’s scrawled across his upper lip.</p><p>—</p><p>Nicky loves getting fingered, and Joe very much is not above exploiting that fact. The thing about knowing someone, very literally inside and out, for almost a thousand years is you become very intimately familiar with their limits. Nicky’s limits are very fun for Joe.</p><p>Case in point, he’s been massaging Nicky’s rim with his thumb while idly suckling on the head of Nicky’s cock for the past ten minutes, and it’s dragged Nicky right from coherent begging to breathless sobs. Joe is very aware that he has about a minute to make Nicky come before the sensation slips from thrilling to painful, and if he takes the edge off now, then Nicky will be able to go for hours yet. It’s an easy decision to make, he thinks as he slips two fingers inside Nicky, right to the second knuckle, and curls them firmly forward, pushing Nicky further into his mouth from the inside. </p><p>Nicky makes a noise from so deep in his chest it’s like it’s been clawed out of him, and spills bitter and hot across Joe’s tongue. Joe sucks him gently through it, stroking him inside with careful fingertips. When Nicky makes a noise like a sob, Joe knows to lift his head and still his hand. He stays inside him though, marking his place for later.</p><p>‘Two,’ he says to the soft skin of Nicky’s inner thigh, just before he sets his teeth to it. Nicky shudders around his fingers.</p><p>—</p><p>‘Why is Nicky crying?’ asks Nile, leaning over the back of Joe’s chair. Her braids swing forward to bump gently against his shoulder, and he can smell the perfume they spent an hour picking together in a boutique in Milan. She’s also very clearly silently laughing at his husband so really, all in all, he finds it a very pleasant state of affairs. </p><p>‘Our gift, Nile, cannot heal misplaced confidence or bruised pride,’ he says, leaning his head back against her shoulder. Nile reaches for contact sometimes, and he finds it easy as breathing to indulge her. ‘Nicky took the restaurant’s heat-rating scale for its chicken wings as a personal challenge. Andy, I’m sure you will be shocked to hear, felt similarly. First to break owes the other two hundred, and must answer Copley’s check-in emails for the next month.’ </p><p>Nile kisses her teeth and then laughs again, propping her chin on Joe’s head. Her chair is between Nicky and Andy, and given both of them are red-eyed and snivelling, it’s excellent judgement on her part to stay out of the way. She knows as well as he does just how much Nicky hates sending emails, and also just how prone he is to making bets he can’t win. </p><p>A waiter wanders past the table, dropping a fresh basket of wings in front of Andy and Nicky, murmuring something about ghost peppers and peanut sauce. Even from almost a full metre away, they can smell the spice. Nicky locks eyes with Joe for a moment; his usually clear and bright eyes are bloodshot and wet, his nose and cheeks bright red and dewy with sweat. He looks ridiculous. Joe thinks he could very easily die of love of him. There’s something of his oldest self in the way he straightens his back and reaches for a chicken wing, like he’s taking up his sword. Andy looks as nonchalant as can possibly be managed with tear tracks on her face. </p><p>They tap wings, politely, and then each takes a deep breath before they take a firm bite. Nile’s hands grip Joe’s shoulders and he pats her knuckles absently, eyes fixed on Nicky’s trembling chin. They each chew once, twice, and then—</p><p>‘<em>Cazzo—,’ </em>Nicky breaks off, dropping his wing and reaching for his glass of milk in one quick and desperate motion, downing half the glass in one gulp. Andy raises her arms triumphantly, swallowing with some difficulty around her manic grin. </p><p>‘I told you! I told you, Nicky, you can’t handle spicy food the way I can!’ she wraps an arm around Nicky’s shoulders and shakes him gleefully while reaching for her own milk with her other hand. Nicky rolls his eyes but keeps drinking, a thin trail of milk leading down from the corner of his mouth. Joe and Nile laugh loudly enough to drag half the restaurant’s eyes towards them. Nicky looks ruefully at Joe, pausing his frantic gulping to take deep breaths. Joe shakes his head at him fondly, and blows him a kiss. </p><p>—</p><p>‘<em>Ah— ah,’ </em> Nicky pants, little punched-out gasps with every roll of Joe’s hips. Joe has him up on his knees, balanced precariously where they’re spread on either side of Joe’s thighs, rocking forward with every thrust. </p><p>‘You can take it, my heart, can’t you?’ says Joe as he grinds himself deeper into Nicky, and stills to feel him pulse around his cock. Nicky gives a nebulous whine, and pushes back against him. His hands shake where they clutch the headboard of the bed. Joe licks a drop of sweat from his neck and presses his grin against Nicky’s jaw. A muscle in Nicky’s cheek jumps as he tries to pace his breathing. </p><p>Joe’s had him on the edge for hours, filling him slowly and leaving him empty more often than not; clenching around nothing as Joe teased every sensitive part of him. It’s been a while since Nicky could talk. Joe relishes every wet gasp and choked sob as Nicky shudders and squirms beneath him. He’s locked his knees as best he can, supporting his weight under the press of Joe’s body, but Joe knows him as well as he knows his own breath. Nicky’s minutes from breaking. When he’s wrung every last drop of pleasure possible from Nicky’s body, then he’ll be satisfied. </p><p>The noise Nicky makes when Joe reaches around and firmly fists his dripping cock will keep him warm at night for the next thousand years. Nicky shakes hard in Joe’s arms, barely keeping himself upright as he strips his cock ruthlessly, his knees buckling as he comes with a terrible groan. He twists in Joe’s arms, desperately mouthing at his throat, whispering Joe’s name over and over, his voice ruined as he begs as best he can for a kiss. </p><p>Joe rubs the tip of his nose against Nicky’s, sharing his breath as he keeps his hand moving on Nicky’s cock, keeps him hard in his hand even as Nicky starts to whimper; starts to cry as Joe lightly touches his cheek with his free hand and ghosts his lips over Nicky’s own, flicks the tip of his tongue painfully gently against the sensitive inside of his bottom lip. </p><p>‘That’s three, <em> ya amar,' </em>whispers Joe without moving away from Nicky’s face. Nicky whimpers again into his open mouth, his eyes shut tight, his knuckles white with the pressure of his grip on the headboard. He nods though, and makes no move to stop Joe in any of the many ways they’ve agreed over the years. As wrecked as he looks, Joe knows he can push him further. </p><p>—</p><p>‘Do you ever get annoyed with him?’ asks Nile, quietly, but not unkindly, as she watches Nicky knead bread dough through the hatch in the kitchen wall. Joe hums a questioning noise at her, not looking up from his half-finished embroidery. ‘For making so many bets? He must have lost so much money over the centuries.’</p><p>Joe and Andy laugh, catching Nicky’s attention just long enough for him to glance over his shoulder and smile at them all with the tiniest twitch of his mouth. He settles back into kneading, and Joe rests his embroidery hoop on his knee, giving Nile his full attention. She twists back in her chair to give him the same, settling with her elbows on her knees and her hands loosely clasped between them. </p><p>Andy, draped over the couch like a Roman emperor at his leisure, snorts another laugh and rolls to tuck her face against the cushions. </p><p>‘In the early centuries of our life,’ begins Joe, his lips twisting around the words as he considers the best way to explain the somewhat unexplainable. ‘We had neither money nor possessions, really. We were on the move constantly, and we traded more than we purchased. An evening of our time as guards, for example, would see us fed and if we were lucky, would give us somewhere to rest. If Nicky gambled, it was usually to win us something we genuinely needed. Nicky rarely lost those bets.’ </p><p>Andy laughs again, and when she speaks her voice is muffled by the couch cushions. </p><p>‘Nicky <em> never </em> loses bets that have your comfort as collateral. Remember he shot that apple off that guy’s head one time? Won us all free rooms for a week, got himself into the history books, all because you cried over a little rain getting in your bedroll.’ </p><p>Joe scoffs, picking his embroidery back up to keep his hands busy. ‘I didn’t <em> cry</em>, I was just irritated —<em>rightfully so, Andromache— </em>that certain someones had used the good tent canvas as a hunting blanket!’ </p><p>‘You cried. Don’t lie to Nile, she knows you too well now, and she’s too smart to believe you.’ </p><p>Joe shoots Andy a betrayed look before turning his attention back to Nile, who has her fist pressed against her mouth to hide her laughter. Joe sighs, and rolls his eyes. </p><p>‘What was your question again, Nile?’</p><p>Nile’s lips twitch as she speaks, but Joe appreciates her making the effort to not blatantly laugh in his face. ‘Do you ever get annoyed with Nicky for losing bets?’ </p><p>Shaking his head, Joe looks over at Nicky and smiles as he watches his shoulders roll with each movement of his hands. ‘Never. What does money compare to my Nicolò’s smile? I would rather see him lose a thousand bets and laugh after each one than see him win once and weep.’</p><p>Andy makes a soft gagging sound, but when Joe looks towards her, she looks back over her own shoulder and winks at him. He winks back, grinning at her. When he returns his attention to Nile, her eyes are soft, and her smile fond. </p><p>‘You really can’t help yourself, can you?’ she asks, but clearly doesn’t expect an answer. Joe grins, shrugs his shoulders at her, and bends over his hoop again to finish his pattern. </p><p>‘<em>Tesoro, </em>could you—,’ calls Nicky from the kitchen, before he cuts himself off with a curse. Joe grins fit to split his face, and holds his hands up in triumph. First to use a pet name is always a surefire win for him.</p><p>Andy springs abruptly upright, pointing at the kitchen and howling, ‘<em>Nico!</em> I believed in you! For <em> once! </em>You promised me!’ </p><p>Nile cackles with laughter, leaning precariously far over the coffee table to high-five Joe. ‘I knew you could do it!’ </p><p>Nicky steps into the room, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, his face flushed, his shoulders rounded. ‘Sorry Andy, I forgot what we were doing,’ he says, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘How much was it this time?’ </p><p>Andy sighs, and heaves herself to her feet. ‘It was fifty, Nicolò.’ Nicky cringes at his full name, before turning the full force of his big sad eyes on Andy. Joe is on his feet to embrace him after less than thirty seconds of that look, and it isn’t even aimed at him. Andy holds out almost a minute before she sighs and lets her laughter show. ‘I don’t know why I believed you this time, you always break first.’ </p><p>Joe nuzzles his nose against Nicky’s neck and grins at him when he catches his eye. Nicky sighs, and wraps his arms around Joe’s waist. </p><p>‘I don’t know why you trusted me either,’ he says as he rubs his cheek against Joe’s beard, carefully ignoring his smug grin. ‘You think we would both learn, after so long.’</p><p>—</p><p>Personally, Joe gets extremely over-sensitive after he comes with anything inside him. He needs it out of him immediately, and needs time to recover before he can enjoy himself again. Nicky, however, thrives on the edge of discomfort. He loves to get hard again while still split open for Joe, pulling away from the tease of his hand, even as he presses back to take him deeper. Even now, still tearful from the strength of his orgasm, his hips still move in tiny rolls against Joe, seeking friction. Between how relaxed he is though, how long Joe has filled him, and the amount of lube he’s used to keep them both happy, there’s very little friction to be found anymore. Joe shushes him, and kisses sweetly up the line of his throat.</p><p>‘I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Just relax, I have you,’ Nicky <em> keens </em> as Joe tightens his fist, coaxing him back to full hardness. He flexes his hands on the headboard, stretching his fingers before gripping it tight again. He tries to squeeze around Joe’s cock as he does so, but barely manages. Joe bites at his shoulder and bucks his hips, fucking into him harder than he’s done in almost an hour. It tears a gasp from him, but little else. Joe needs to up his game, clearly. </p><p>‘Nicolò, <em> amore mio, vita mio, </em>hold on tight for me, would you?’ murmurs Joe into the space between Nicky’s shoulder blades. He feels more than hears Nicky’s answering gasp, before Nicky’s arms flex with his renewed grip. Joe grins, presses a kiss to Nicky’s skin, and sits them both upright, dragging Nicky by the hips back up onto his own knees. </p><p>‘I think you need a little something more, don’t you, my darling?’ asks Joe rhetorically, already reaching to the lube again even as Nicky whines, shaking in his grip. He pauses for the barest second for any sign of actual discomfort, but Nicky’s fingers stay as they are, and he says nothing. Joe nods, smiling to himself as he coats his fingers with slick.</p><p>He tucks his nose up against Nicky’s ear again, and whispers sweetly to him as he reaches between them. ‘You’re so beautiful like this, my heart. So stunning for me, so good,’ he whispers praise into Nicky’s ear as he slips two fingers inside him, and pushes his cock in right after. He can feel Nicky’s rim stretch around his knuckles, the almost unbearable tightness of him after being so relaxed. Nicky howls in his arms at the sudden intrusion, his spine curving like a bowstring, his fingernails digging so hard into the headboard Joe expects to see chips in the wood when they’re done. </p><p>He keeps his initial thrusts slow, just for a second to let Nicky adjust, before he sets a punishing pace, his free hand tight enough to keep a bruise on Nicky’s hip. Heat sparks through Joe’s entire body, it takes everything in him not to come just at the sight of the tears clinging to Nicky’s eyelashes; the flush that scrawls across his chest like the finest calligraphy the world has ever seen, obscene and beautiful. Redoubling his efforts to wreck Nicky first, Joe lets go of his hip and grasps his cock again, teasing the head the way Nicky likes best. He thrusts the fingers of his other hand in counterpoint to his hips, pounding into him so hard the bed gives an alarming <em> crack </em> beneath them.</p><p>Nicky comes with a silent scream, his mouth open wide, his entire body frozen like he’s been electrocuted. He grips Joe like a vice on the inside, and Joe barely has time to gasp ‘<em>f</em><em>our!’ </em>before he comes himself, grinding his hips up hard, spilling deep and what feels like forever inside the warmth of Nicky’s body. </p><p>As soon as he’s aware of the edges of his own body again, Joe gently pulls his cock from Nicky, easing his fingers out slowly after, running his thumb around the rim of Nicky’s hole in a loving caress. Nicky gives a tiny sob, shaking like a leaf and panting for breath. Joe eases him down onto his side and tucks his face against his own shoulder. Nicky’s eyes are closed, and his face is a mess of tears and sweat. Joe kisses his brow, his closed eyes, the corners of his lips, and whispers, ‘Five. You did so well, <em> habibi. </em>I’m very proud of you.’ </p><p>Nicky smiles in his arms, tiny and smug. </p><p>— </p><p>‘No way,’ says Nile, shaking her head and looking at Nicky like he’s lost his mind. ‘No way can you get that up there before someone notices.’</p><p>Nicky smiles at her, the picture of benevolence. ‘Would you care to put money on it?’ he asks, idly swinging Joe’s hand in his own and looking for all the world like he’s talking about the weather, rather than a casual spot of criminal mischief. Joe’s fingers itch with the need to capture that look on paper. He loves Nicky always, it’s an irrevocable fact of the universe, but he loves him that tiniest little bit more every time he’s an unrepentant little shit. </p><p>Nile frowns, glancing between the traffic cones in the street, the statue across the road from them, and the nearly deserted square of people. It’s early, even for a city like Glasgow, but there are still a number of people around; stragglers from the clubs, maintenance workers, city employees starting their day. </p><p>‘Maybe,’ she hedges, considering the statue again. The plinth alone is almost 10 feet high. The horse and its rider tower above the street. ‘What are we counting as being noticed?’ </p><p>‘Someone points, shouts, something along those lines,’ says Andy immediately, scanning the square herself. ‘CCTV doesn’t count, we’ll deal with that later.’ </p><p>The sun’s coming up. The morning is cold, and a lovely shade of lavender, and Joe is so happy he feels ready to burst as Nile nods and extends a hand to Nicky to shake. </p><p>‘Two hundred you can’t even get on the plinth before someone catches you,’ she says. Nicky nods once, sharply, and lets go of Joe’s hand as he begins to make his way across the street. </p><p>‘Why does it need a cone in the first place?’ asks Nile as she watches him go, crossing her arms across her chest for warmth. Her jacket is lovely, but not particularly suited to a Scottish morning in March. Joe wraps an arm around her, and the other around Andy. Nicky picks up a cone mid-step and keeps moving, confidence written in every line of his body. </p><p>‘Who knows,’ says Andy, pinching at Joe’s waist when he presses a kiss to her hair. ‘The locals like it that way. It’s weird to see it without it now.’</p><p>They fall silent as Nicky reaches the statue. Nile tenses under Joe’s arm. They’re watching, but no one else is. </p><p>With absolute assuredness, Nicky gets a foot on the plinth and kicks himself up high enough to grab the top with his free hand. Nile whispers ‘<em>parkour! </em>’ under her breath and laughs, but doesn’t explain, and Joe and Andy are too focussed to ask about it. Joe tucks it away in the back of his mind for later though. </p><p>It’s over in less than a minute, to Nile’s hissed confusion and mild awe. Nicky gets up on the plinth, grips the statue’s arm, gets a foot onto his stirrup, and hops high enough to toss the traffic cone onto his head. As soon as it’s in place, he gets out of dodge. In a blink, Nicky’s back on solid ground and walking back towards them, and the Duke of Wellington has a very fetching hat. No one else on the square so much as twitches. Nicky’s five feet clear of the statue when a person emptying the bins on the far side of the square looks up, but she looks away again without saying anything, clearly finding nothing amiss. </p><p>Nicky frowns when he reaches them, his eyes flicking between Joe’s two currently-occupied arms. He shrugs, and grins at him. Nile needs his comfort more just now. Nicky pouts, as much as he ever does, a very distinctive tightening of the corners of his lips, and Joe blows him a kiss. </p><p>‘You hustled me,’ complains Nile, reaching into her pocket for her purse. ‘All those bets you’ve lost, and this is the one you win? I should’ve known you’d have a trick up your sleeve.’ She counts out two hundred pounds from the pile Andy had handed her just the day before, and offers them to Nicky. He shakes his head, and guides her hand back towards her purse. </p><p>‘I don’t like to carry money, and Joe is occupied at the moment,’ he says, smiling at her. ‘Keep it till later, see if you can win it back.’ </p><p>She rolls her eyes at him, but tucks the money away again without further discussion. Nicky steps around to her other side, and they continue on towards their hotel without another glance at the statue. </p><p>Andy and Nicky are quietly discussing the travel plans for later in the afternoon when Joe remembers. </p><p>‘Hey Nile?’ </p><p>‘Yeah?’ </p><p>‘Why did you say ‘<em>parkour!’ </em>when Nicky jumped on the statue?’ </p><p>Nile lets out a wild snort of laughter and looks mildly betrayed at herself after. Nicky tips his head back and laughs at the look on her face, and as always, Joe is helpless to do anything but join in when Nicky laughs. They make their way down the street laughing, Nile gasping to explain herself between giggles, the other three teasing her all the while. </p><p>—</p><p>Joe plays idly with Nicky’s fingers while Nicky gets his breath back. He’s tidied them both up, and helped Nicky sip some water, and there’s nothing to do now but let him come back to himself as slowly as he likes, held warm and safe against Joe’s chest. </p><p>Nicky presses a kiss to his collarbone, and settles that bit more firmly against him, letting Joe take his weight.</p><p>‘We were at five already, <em> tesoro?’ </em>he asks, his voice a rumble Joe can feel in his own chest. </p><p>‘Already, <em> habibi.</em>’ </p><p>Nicky hums, and falls silent for a moment.</p><p>‘Six, next time then?’ </p><p>‘Six.’ </p><p>Nicky smiles, so wide Joe can feel the push of his cheekbone against his chest.</p><p>‘You’re not really incentivising me to win any bets, my heart.’ </p><p>Joe laughs, and kisses Nicky’s forehead. ‘Just think of what you could do to me though, if you do.’</p><p>Nicky bites playfully at him, before he leans up to kiss him properly. A bare inch from his lips, he asks, ‘Would you say no, if I asked to do them anyway?’ </p><p>Joe growls, and rolls him over onto his back. He kisses him, lush and deep enough to steal the breath from both of them, and leans back only far enough to rest their heads together. </p><p>‘Never, my heart. You can do as you like with me,’ he kisses Nicky again, just a tiny brush of the lips. ‘I reserve the right to change my mind though, if Andy makes good on her threat to shave your head the next time you lose to her.’ </p><p>Nicky’s eyes fly open and he squawks indignantly as Joe falls onto his back, howling with laughter.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>'shitebag if ye dinnae'<br/>Scots, meaning: 'what are you, chicken?' </p><p>Thanks for reading! Hope you had fun &lt;3 </p><p>I've definitely nicked Joe embroidering from a tumblr post, but I absolutely cannot find it again for love nor money. Apologies, person who first had that idea, but it was too perfect for me to forget.</p><p>edit: it's from this <a href="https://raedear.tumblr.com/post/639666950571802624">post</a>, thank you <a href="https://the73rdpostscript.tumblr.com/">the 73rdpostscript</a> for finding it!</p><p>If you've got the spoons a kudos or a comment would be wonderful, and would feed the tiny gremlin in my brain that demands attention. </p><p>Catch me on <a href="https://twitter.com/raedear_writes">twitter</a> and <a href="https://raedear.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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